These Days
by LadyArrin
Summary: The world went to hell and he found her in a tree with a medieval armory. What it takes to survive in a post-infected world, with new social standards. Daryl/OC. There will be smut, violence, and cursing, I assure you.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anybody but Noel, much to my distress. Please review and tell me what to improve!

AN: I figured this would be a decent way to get to know the boys and introduce my little vixen. Have fun!

His feet were quiet as he listened. The woods would talk to you, tell you everything you needed to know if you just shut up every once in a while. There, he heard it. There was movement in the trees so Daryl Dixon lowered himself to the ground, gazing down the sights of his rifle, waiting. He knew it was there, he could hear it moving. The animal didn't sound like one of those dead things he and Merle had killed as it went too near the cabin they inhabited in the mountains, far far from the city. It sounded like a four-footed animal. With hooves. As he closed his eyes, he could pin it. It was a cloven-hoofed animal, so odds were it was deer in this part of the woods.

It was then he realized something was wrong. The entire section of the woods he was in had gone quiet. Way too quiet. He rose himself into a crouch while he slowly and steadily switched from the gun to the crossbow. It had been Merle who figured out that guns just drew more of them to you, as they had learned.

–

The cabin had one window and one door, and the brothers had been woken from sleep to something banging on the window. It had been Merle who went outside to scare off what he had deemed to be a "huge ass fuckin' coon". As a habit, neither of the Dixon boys went anywhere unarmed, and that had saved Merle's life.

Daryl wasn't sure what happened, but he heard the shot and rushed outside, only to find more of what Merle had shot coming out of the woods, practically running towards the sound. They was something wrong with them. They were people. Or had been people. The way they walked and ran wasn't quite right; as though they were injured or had forgotten how to walk. In the early days of the infection, the infected had still looked like people. Sick people, yes. But still people. Daryl had been unsure of what to do as these things ran towards him.

"Fuckin' shoot 'em, little brother!" Merle had already taken down two more of his opponents with clean shots, but Daryl had come out without a gun. It was just a knife against these gray-skinned, hungry-looking people who were coming at him with already chewing jaws, sensing only one thing. Meat.

"What the FUCK are you waitin' on, boy?" Merle was still shooting. Daryl picked up the axe they used for chopping wood and did the only thing he could. He swung. That was when they learned only head shots kill the dead. The axe was now wedged firmly into the man's neck, and he was hissing, straining against it, reaching out for Daryl.

"Wh'the fuck is THIS SHIT?" Daryl grabbed his hunting knife from his belt and jammed into the man's skull, finally silencing him. "Go fer th'head!" In a matter of minutes the brothers had dispatched all the walkers coming out from the woods. Daryl sat down on a stump, running a shaking hand through his unruly, slightly unwashed hair and pulled out a cigarette. "Wh'the fuck was that?"

Merle stole it from his hands. "World's fuckin' ending, little brother. White man finally gits his revenge." Daryl rolled his eyes, pulling out another cigarette. "You'n yer white nazi bullshit, bro. I see a white guy in that pile there. What we do know is sumthin's goin' on out there. We better go see what it is."

The trip to town in Daryl's pickup truck had provided a terrifying sight for Daryl, even though Merle seemed to love it. Their quiet little mountain town was abandoned. Cars were littered across the road, empty. The shops were all left open with their items, some of them having been looted already. "ANARCHY, little brother! I said it was comin!" Even Merle got quiet, however, when they saw a woman tearing chunks out of the only man who had been nice to the Dixon brothers in this whole town, despite their reputation.

"This's some fucked up shit, Daryl. We gotta get back and fortify. Stop by McClaren's on the way." McClaren's was the only hunting-goods store nearby, a good ten miles out of the way. Daryl glanced around and turned the way the place was located. The drive only got worse. The closer they got to actual civilization, the worse it got. The more things they saw, some trapped in cars and clawing to get out, others just sitting in the road, staring at them with blank expressions as the truck roared through the rural Georgian woods.

Once they got to McClaren's, Daryl parked close to the entrance, and both the brothers turned blue eyes to stare into the building. There was a sign on the door, hastily taped, that said

"CAUTION: LEFT FRONT DOOR OPEN.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED. PAY ME WHEN

WE GET BACK FROM HELL."

Daryl was the one who broke the silence. "Git in, git out, bro." Merle got out of the truck, holding what was nothing short of a machete. Daryl followed him, holding onto the trusty axe with his hunting knife at his belt. Merle's voice was quiet as he looked in all directions. "Stay together. Stay quiet. We need food, propane, guns. Ammo. Knives. Anythin' we can carry but no more'n that. Get bogged, we're stuck. Leave the truck doors unlocked." And with that, he strode into the store; fearless.

There was a quiet, frustrated curse as Daryl had no choice to but to follow his older brother into the darkness of the building. In the dark they collected as much as they could. They picked up a duffel bag and went to the gun section, with Daryl standing guard as Merle took pistols, rifles, shotguns...anything that could fire a bullet went in. Daryl picked up a crossbow and about forty bolts, despite Merle's mutterings of "fuckin' redneck". From there, they went to the knife case. Anything that was big enough to get inside something's skull went in the bag. Ammunition for all the guns. Daryl's hair was standing on the back of his neck. "Sumthin's there, Merle. We gotta go."

Merle studied the darkness. "Fer once, I think you're right." Their exit route took them through the dried foods section, which of course, made Merle stop. He took whatever he could and put it in the bag, stopping only as Daryl spotted it, hissing at his brother. "Merle, we gotta go. inow/i." The zombie started the shuffling run, and Daryl took two steps and swung, lodging the axe right on the forehead. He wrenched it free with a foot on the corpse for balance. "Now can we go?"

They made it back to the cabin without major incident, making sure the area was clear before they went and came up with a plan. They'd rig the entire area around the house with cans on a string (there was no shortage of beer cans at the Dixon residence), on multiple levels. A red neck alert system. They were done before sundown and barred the door from the inside and nailing boards over the window, leaving just a small slit for a crossbow bolt or a viewing slice.

There was no fire that night at the Dixon cabin as both men sat in the middle of the room, smoking and listening. There was no conversation. Merle looked eerily comfortable in this situation and it was starting to make Daryl uncomfortable.

–

Daryl was listening, not moving, when he heard movement from several directions at once. And then they came at him in a flurry, clouded eyes and grey skin coming in one, uncomfortable, all directional mass. There weren't enough bolts for them all, not enough time to switch to the rifle and be able to use it properly. He hefted the crossbow; load, fire, load, fire, load, fire. It seemed to go on forever until he had one bolt left, with six of them. Daryl did the only thing he could do. He took a running leap into the trees, pulling up onto a branch as one of the geeks grabbed his foot. The zombie, however, took a swift kick to the face; in all the glory of a steel-toed boot.

Then, out of nowhere, he heard the whistle of an arrow. Then another. Another. Another. He pulled himself to safety and tried to see where they were coming from, wood arrows with grey feather fletching. Not modern bolts. There were two zombies left. Daryl was staring down at the trees, trying to figure out where they were coming from.

What he hadn't expected, however, was to hear the sound of a bow snapping against a bracer directly to his right. Another geek fell. Then the snap again, and the last one fell. He desperately searched for his savior, and then, he found her.

She was probably thirty feet off the ground in what had probably been a grade-a hunting stand. It was a wooden platform with more than enough room for the small woman and all her gear; he also recognized a rope ladder and multiple quivers of arrows, and box of MRE's. Merle's type of woman.

The woman gave him a cold look even as she unstrung her bow that was almost as long as she was. "What are you staring at." Her accent was what caught his attention. Or lackthereof, considering how she lacked the distinctive drawl that designated residents of this particular area. "I just saved your fucking life. What were you gonna do, stay up here for days? No food? No supplies? Jesus, what kind of idiot are you?" He was puzzled. He couldn't quite figure it out, and it was an itch in his brain he couldn't scratch. "Where you from? Ain't from here, I c'n tell."

Apparently the question startled the mystery woman, whose espresso hair was cut short to the jaw, as she actually answered him by rote memory. "Connecticut, actually."

"What the hell're you doin' down here? In a fuckin' TREE?"

His question had apparently earned Daryl another frosty stare, and it was only then he noticed her eyes, a bright gray and rimmed by a darker shade. "What? I wanna know."

Her retort was icy. "You're in a tree also, you know." Daryl huffed at her, still holding onto the tree. "Look, we c'n talk 'bout this all day. How 'bout you let me up in that damn tree?" The mystery woman turned business.

"You been bit?"

"No m'am."

"Scratched?"

"No m'am."

"Good. I won't hesitate to shoot you. I can restring this in a matter of seconds." Perhaps a bit of a bluff, but it couldn't hurt. Noel couldn't leave him there. It was going to be dark way too soon and there was no way he could make it back wherever he came from. Times like these, she figured, you had to try and trust people. Believe in the best of them. She eyed the surrounding woods in a quick but thorough assessment before throwing down the ladder. "Come down, then, before they come back."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wish I owned the WD, I'd be making bank. Just a Daryl 3'er. It picks up, I promise you. Read and review!

Daryl gratefully jumped down from his own tree and rapidly scaled the rope ladder, pulling it up behind him even as the sun started to go down. The mystery woman looked at him as she pulled a pistol into clear view and went on putting her bowstring back into what looked a wax packet.

He was amazed. Under the blankets he saw a traditional long bow (what she'd been using when she had, quite literally, saved his life. He saw arrows and knives, the equipment he assumed you had to use when you were making arrows. He also saw a sword of some type; although it was the last thing he knew about. Knives, he knew. Guns, he knew. Compound bows, he knew. Crossbows, he knew. This strange little woman had an armory he had no idea how to use.

The lithe brunette leaned back against the tree, covering herself in a blanket before offering him one. "I'm Noel O'Brien. Figure since we're stuck here, we might as well get to know each other." She stuck out a hand, for a handshake. Daryl took her hand and shook it. "Noel. Nice name. Daryl. Daryl Dixon." Eyes looked anxiously up and towards the sun. "M'brother's gonna come lookin' for me in the mornin'." Noel glanced up from where she was slowly sharpening a dagger that looked like it matched the sword. "Nobody comes out here at night. It's suicide. We're safe enough up here for now, I was gonna move in the morning anyway. They can tell I'm here, they just can't see me. I'll take you to my car tomorrow and give you a lift, if you want."

Daryl's jaw dropped. Noel raised an eyebrow at him. "Or you can walk. Whatever works for you."

"Nah, it's just...you really ain't from here, are ya?"

"Why would it matter?"

"You wouldn' be helpin' me if you were."

Noel shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter to me who you are. You're a guy," an attractive guy at that, "and you needed help. Don't care what you've done. My parents raised me to be a decent human being who helps out people who need it."

Daryl raised his eyes. "So you had two?" She nodded, swallowing uncomfortably as she focused back on the dagger. "They're gone, now. The best thing I can do is live their legacy." He ran a hand through his hair and arranged his crossbow even as she tilted her head to look at him. "What about you? Parents? You mentioned a brother?"

He rocked backwards and stared at her. There was no way that this girl (and she was a girl, she looked young) could seriously be asking. Or want to hear what he had to say. "You really don' wanna hear what I gotta say, so why are you fuckin' askin'?" Noel smacked him upside the head, startling the brooding young man into clarity. "What'cha do that for?"

"How do you know I don't care? Maybe I find you interesting." Her eyes were starting to smolder. "How dare you tell me what I do and don't know? After I saved your fucking life? You owe me. Be grateful I'm extracting it from talk rather than extracting it through other means." She stood and put her weapons back in their appropriate holsters and sheathes, giving him an excellent view of her behind as she did so.

She wasn't normally his type of a woman. He preferred them blonde and curvy, but there was something about this boyishly figured girl that had him intrigued. It was that curiosity, more than anything else, that allowed him to answer.

"Ma died when I was kid and the old man went off the deep end. Fuckin' robbed some store and killed a guy, been in the can ever since. Merle's my brother." Talking about Merle always got awkward simply because his relationship with Merle was complicated. Merle had raised him, taken care of him (sort of). In his own way he had shown Daryl he cared. He taught him to hunt, to track. To read the woods better than he could read a human, learning the area around their desolately remote cabin so effectively he could navigate in the dark.

"Merle is Merle." He shrugged. "That's about all there is to it."

Noel nodded. "Siblings can do that."

"You got any?"

"Four. It's complicated." For a brief moment, she looked so isad/i. So horrifically lonely that all he wanted was to take this pixie into his arms and hold her. "They're all dead now, anyway. My niece probably is too."

They sat in a companionable silence for a half hour before Daryl got tired of sneaking glances at her. So, he figured out a way to start conversation. "Not really weapons I've seen before", he said as he gestured to the pile. The way her eyes lit up proved rewarding in itself. She was cute, and she was starting to rub off on him. He pointed first to the sword.

"Italian style rapier. You ever played Assasin's Creed?" He looked at her, dumbfounded, which gave her her answer. "Apparently not. It's a video game. Anyway, this was essentially the sword that shaped Italy. It's smaller, which makes it better for a woman like me. You can do it two handed with this," she passed him the dagger she had been sharpening, "or traditionally you could use some sort of a shield. I prefer two hands." Noel gave him an impish grin, and Daryl felt his heart skip a beat. It was obvious she loved her weapons, almost as much as he loved his. There was nothing sexier on a woman than guns. "This," She hefted the longbow, "is a traditional English style long-bow. Draw weight of 55 pounds."

"No fuckin' way."

"Way."

"Little fuckin' thing like you?"

She favored him with another dazzling smile. "Yep. I have a recurve in a case too, with a draw weight of 67. I just like the longbow the best." It was an array of weapons that were simply classic. He had to ask.

"How'd you get all them?" Daryl grinned her response, the only one of which was a charming blush that flamed her face and neck. "Aw, now you gotta tell me."

"I was part of the SCA."

"A who?"

Noel pulled her hood up, hiding her face. "It's called the Society for Creative Anachronism. We get together and have battles with other lands."

"This is America, hon."

She snapped at him. "Obviously. Look, each section of the country was broken into pieces. Those were turned into regions, which turned into kingdoms. The actual battles had to have foam or wood, but a lot of us collected weapons on our own time. It's historically accurate on my case, as much as I can be."

Daryl burst out laughing, loud and clear. Noel was giving him a panicked look as she looked down, but he couldn't stop laughing. "NERD! You're a serious, hones' t'God, NERD!" She picked up one of the sticks she'd been turning into an arrow and poked him sharply in the ribs. "Shut up!"

He did the best he could, but he was taken by a fit of silent laughter that had him back against the tree, laughing until he started to cry. God, it felt good to laugh. Or it did until something cracked under them.

Noel glanced at the sky, her voice suddenly quiet and somber. "It's that time." The sun was down and they were coming out. Daryl quieted immediately and motioned her over. "It's gonna get cold t'night. Commere." Without protest she got between his legs, leaning her back against his chest as he brought the blanket over them both.

Under the blanket, however, it became obvious that she was, in fact, a woman. And it had been so long since he'd held one. That delicate smell, almost floral, that came from her made him suddenly self conscious. He hadn't bathed in a few days, but she didn't seem to mind. Maybe because that's just how it was these days. He became hyper aware of the heat of her, of his hand on her leg. Of how small she was, the way she fit against him, of how protective it made him feel. It was crazy, he knew it was crazy, he'd just met this girl today. After she saved his ass from a pack of zombies. Things were different now, he mused. Protocol was different. She was a girl who loved her weapons and who was serious about them. To Daryl, the only thing that could make her hotter was if she could track.

She put her head back against his shoulder and he saw her neck bared; an expanse of porcelain skin so perfect that was begging to be bitten. Without realizing it, his hands on her hips tightened. God, it had been so achingly long since he'd last gotten laid. There was something about this elfin little woman that had him on edge.

His whole body was strung and wired, primed and ready. He couldn't help himself. He kissed her neck, lightly at first, and then (when he received no motion from her) he bit her, gently. What he wasn't prepared for was sudden shiver that wracked her body and the whine that came from her throat. One hand came up to stroke her hair, whispering in her ear. "You gotta be quiet, lit'le one. They'll hear you." Another delicious shiver was wrung from her body as she closed her eyes, focusing on this strange man who had appeared from the woods like an apparition from God in all of his gorgeous beauty.

She could feel how firm he was, how his entire body seemed to be solid muscle, and she was reminded of how a tiger looks stalking prey. That was how he had looked. This man was a predator and, right now, she was the prey.

Daryl had focused on her neck again, his hand creeping slowly up her stomach, beginning to trace the soft outline of her surprisingly lacy bra. It was light, delicate, and filmy and it was all he could do to not rip it off that instant. The only reason he had any self control was the sound of the geeks below, searching for them. He settled, instead, on simply petting and stroking. A soft whimper came from her throat and she arched into his touch.

Somehow, while she'd been lost in the sensory experience that Daryl was providing, he'd managed to pin her between his legs. He captured her wrists with his right hand while his left continued to wander. It moved down to the buttons, causing her to squirm. He tightening his grip on her, crooning quietly in her ear. "Easy there, you...nod if you think yah'd be too loud."

Noel nodded her head enthusiastically and his hand moved. She practically melted at the way he chuckled in her ear. "Think I found a good thing'n you, lit'le one. We'll talk in the morning."

Neither of them could sleep. She could feel what her proximity was doing to him, pressing into base of her spine. He was aware of what he was doing to her, the way she shivered when he brushed her hip or breathed against her ear. The whole night was spent in a tense, in-between, shadow world where it was just them fighting their own impulses.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**So this took a while to get where I wanted it to be. Special thanks to my beta, Lith, for helping me revamp the whole thing. I know it's a little slow going between Noel and Daryl, but it'll be worth the wait. Perhaps next chap? Read & review!

Daryl woke to birds chirping. That was a good sign. Birds and animals coming back to the area meant the danger had passed. He realized, right after the birds, that there was a very soft, very warm woman sleeping on him. Or rather, she wasn't sleeping. Her hands were cleaning her one and only gun, the pieces spread out on the stand beside them.

Noel jumped as his hands settled on her waist, as that delicious southern twang was right in her ear. "A woman who knows a gun...nothin' better." Her fingers were already flying, reassembling the pistol just as she stood, tucking it into the back of her jeans, between her belt and the fabric.

"We gotta get moving. They're cleared out for now, and this might be the only chance we get." He wasn't sure how long it would take for her to pack her gear, unsure if she could carry it. What he saw surprised him. It all fit neatly into one of those packs he'd seen the hikers going to the Appalachian Trail wearing. She buckled her sword on her left side, the dagger tucked into her boot. She tossed down the pack and the ladder, swiftly making her way down. Once he was down she left the ladder as she had found it; wrapped around the tree with a note.

"SAFE FOR A FEW NIGHTS.

THEY WILL COME LOOKING.

STAY SAFE & MOVE ON.

GOD BLESS"

She shouldered the pack effortlessly, a quiver of arrows on her right hip as the recurve bow she mentioned went into her right hand, the case in the left. She kept her voice down. "Car's maybe 15 minutes from here. I'm telling you now, it offers nothing. The only thing it gives me is speed."

Daryl was happy to let them fall into silence, watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary. And then he saw it. The woods opened up into a clearing he'd never seen before; he must have been farther off course than he thought. In the middle of the clearing, at the end of a logging road, sat a black Jeep Wrangler. It looked scratched, dented, and well loved. It was a beast of a car, with just enough lift to allow it to pass most major obstacles, flood lights at the top. No backseat. There was also a winch and, oddly enough, a snow plow. No doors. No top. No protection whatsoever.

He wasn't prepared for the sudden, huge smile that graced her features. "There he is. Right where I left him." Daryl looked at her sideways.

"Him? And what's with the plow?" Her smile turned into more of a smirk.

"Him. His nickname is The Beast. I'm emotionally attached to my car, gimme a break. You'll see about the plow in a second." Noel went to her car while Daryl stood guard, strapping everything down and going so far as to rock her car. He frowned at her. "Waste of time, that." She shook her head.

"Not the way I drive. Get in and buckle your seatbelt."

Daryl clenched his teeth. "I ain't worn a seat belt since I was four." Noel shrugged at him before rolling her eyes and climbing into the Jeep, doing up her own seat belt. Daryl swung into the car, settling himself with his crossbow between his knees, seat belt decidedly unbuckled. She glanced at him with a look that clearly said 'you sure about this?'. He shrugged and gestured his hand in a 'go forth' motion.

"What're we waitin' on then?" Just then, there was movement ahead of them. Directly ahead. Geeks were shambling onto the road, brought on the noise of the engine of the Jeep. Just the sight of them make Daryl want to stick his head out of the car and vomit. Some of them had no limbs; some of them were missing 'parts' both in their face as well as the rest of their body, all driven towards the sound and smell of dinner. Gray with bits of bone poking through, the white eyes were never blinking. There was still time to get away. Daryl glanced over, surprised to find Noel having donned a pair of sunglasses and a putting a bandanna over her hair.

She answered his glance with a comment. "If I don't do this, my hair gets all types of tangled." Noel engaged the car and simply drove. They drew closer and closer, picking up speed as they went, and Daryl instantly saw the advantage of the snow plow. It allowed her to simply drive through the pack, leaving zombie devastation in her wake. He wasn't, however prepared for her sharp turn that nearly threw him out of the car as she turned to face down the rest of them. As Noel gunned her engine, he quietly put on his seat belt and held onto the rollcage, crossbow safe between his knees. After another pass they turned, headed out into the open world.

Noel was driving comfortably, with one hand on the wheel and the other lighting a cigarettte. She offered Daryl one and he plucked it out of the pack, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't light the cigarette. "Fuckin' bullshit lighter won't work." The brunette simply passed him hers and lit another one.

"Nobody does it on the first try, I assure you."

"I always managed." He gave her a wicked grin, pleased and encouraged at the sight of red he saw creeping up her neck. "Always been told I got great hands, too. And other...what's that fancy word." Daryl paused. "Attributes. Got great...attributes." The flush on her neck crept a little higher, but Dary's grin faltered as he realized that Mcclaren's was coming up on their left. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. I didn' realize how far I was from home. This is fuckin' bullshit." It sounded, to Noel at least, that he was furious. "I never fuckin' do this shit. Ever. I been walkin' these woods since I was a kid. Never done that before."

Noel's answer was quiet. "Perhaps you were meant to." Daryl scoffed at her.

"I don' do that divine shit. I do what I want, when I want. Don't tell me you a Jesus Freak." She shook her head.

"Not quite. But I do believe that things don't happen by accident." They both got quiet as passed McClaren's, staring at the grim reminder that no matter what, they could never be safe anymore. No matter how many fortifications you put up, no matter how many barriers you built, nobody was safe. Daryl started fiddling with radio. "You heard anythin' bout outside of here? We don' go out much."

Noel nodded her head. "I was at class when this whole thing started. At Uconn. The whole world has gone to hell. I had to drive through New York to get here..." a shudder wracked her body, causing Daryl to put a hand on her knee, the only comfort he knew how to give her. "New York is a death trap. There's millions of them, just wandering around. They tried to stop it by killing the bridges and blocking the tunnels, but it didn't work. Jesus, they firebombed the whole fucking place. With Napalm." Her fingers were shaking as she took a sharp drag of her cigarette, allowing her to pause before moving on with her story.

"I was on I95. I made it past the barricade just in time before they blew up the whole place, and the last bridge. I was wondering why they'd left everything at the outpost. Food. Guns. Water. Then these jets came up and just...the whole city was in flames. Jersey's just as bad. They're everywhere. The whole country has fallen to shit. That's why I came down here. I figured, if anything, the woods would be a safe place to be."

Daryl absorbed the news in silence, his voice as quiet as it could be and still be heard above the wind. "I was hopin' it was just here." Noel gave him a sympathetic look.

"It's everywhere. The whole country shut down. Nobody's sure where it started and nobody knows if there's a cure. Some people are saying God did this, to punish us." Her voice got quiet, barely audible above the rushing wind of the Jeep. "I don't think so. I think it was a government thing and they're just too pathetic to own up to the fact that they destroyed the world."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Daryl decided to turn on the radio, being greeted by static. Noel pressed a button and there was suddenly music, causing him to practically jump out of his seat. "Tell me where I'm going, oh great woodsman of the south." Daryl decided to ignore her.

"Bout 7 miles up you're gonna see a turn. Ain't much of a turn, just a break in the brush." Noel nodded, flipping through the tracks on the cd until she found something she actually liked. She glanced over and Daryl looked uncomfortable, grimacing at the sound.

"Not one for music, huh?" Her fingers twitched on the dial. "It's not bad. It's Blink."

"Who?"

Noel rolled her eyes. "You are a backwoods boy, aren't you?" Daryl growled at her.

"I'm a man, thanks. You're an uppity girl, ain't cha?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'm a woman, thanks." Noel tossed the finished cigarette out of where her door should have been. She started drilling him with questions. "How old are you? Have you lived here your whole life? What's Merle really like?" Daryl answered in kind.

"24, yes, and Merle is...Merle."

"So you've said." Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"Merle is a pig. He's a racist somabitch who thinks women should be in the kitchen an' makin' him a sammich." Noel would have glanced at him but she was keeping an eye out for the turn off.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Daryl, however, had decided he wasn't done with the questions. "What 'bout you? How old're you? What were you doin' in college? What woulda you done if th'world didn' go to shit? What were yer parents like? Yer siblins?"

Noel decided to answer, after all...it couldn't hurt. "I'm 22 and I was going to be a photojournalist. I wanted to go to places like Iraq, Afghanistan, follow the deployed troops. I had an internship at the Washington Post before this whole shindig went down. Wanted to never stay still. See the world." Her voice was tinged a dark, dry sarcasm. "Help people. Show people here the international plights. Show them how good they have it. I wanted adventure and adrenaline, and I never got it growing up." She shook her head. "Ironically, I bet the countries with warlords have turned out better than us. But...I digress. This all comes from my parents. My parents were Yuppies."

"What the fuck is a 'yuppie'?" He spoke the word like he'd never heard it before.

"Rich white people who think they're better than everybody else. I have...had four sisters and a niece, but I don't...didn't talk to them much. They're all kind of crazy. Or were. I'm just gonna assume they're all dead and use the past tense. But yeah. My sisters and I never got along. I was a little weirder than they were." Daryl motioned to a gap in the bushes.

"That's where you wanna go." The path up to the cabin was strewn with debris, trying to make it so that anybody who was in a normal car wouldn't be able to go up it. Merle's bike could get around it and Daryl's truck just went over it. As he had expected, Noel and her Jeep had no trouble navigating.

"Yer pretty good at all this." He was amazed at the way she knew her vechicle inside and out; how close she could get to killing them both but still be in complete, total control of the car.

"I did the Rubi trail and Moab on a road trip once. Went to Pismo and Joshua Tree...I learned how to handle him pretty well." She glanced over and couldn't help but snicker at his confused look. "I did a cross country trip when I was younger, before going to college. Rubicon trail is out in California, so is Joshua Tree. The Rubicon and Moab are places you go in caravans and camp on the way, taking each stretch as you go. Joshua Tree is a national park, I went mudding there. Over time you learn exactly what your car can do. You've been four-wheeling, I bet you."

Daryl nodded, and then glanced to the rapidly approaching cabin. Merle was already out to greet them, customary cigarette in his mouth and a shotgun pointed at them both. Daryl let out a whoop and held up his crossbow over the top of the car. The shotgun pointed down to the ground, a less-angry version of what he had been a minute before. The Jeep pulled up and she cut the engine and Daryl was startled by the silence that had suddenly set in. At least, the silence that had lasted until Merle cocked the shotgun, pointing it at Noel.

"Who the fuck is she?"

Noel cut the engine, ditching the sunglasses and bandanna, shaking her hair out. "You must be Merle." She hopped out of the car, her eyes narrowing as she put her hands on her hips. "My name is Noel and I ran into your brother yesterday and offered him a ride." Merle leered at her.

"I bet'chu did, lookin' at that hickey've yours." Daryl's face was flaming. "At least he finally gits laid. Was startin' t'think he was a faggot."

Noel rolled her eyes. "Farthest thing from it. Now, I'm gonna say goodbye to your brother, if you don't mind."

Merle tossed out his cigarette and spit, looking at her and her car. "How much gas you got, missy? Ain't anywhere you c'n find some fer another 20 miles." Her eyes narrowed.

"I have enough."

Daryl, however, had seen the tank. She was far too low to get anywhere safe by tonight. He was unsure of why he cared. Daryl Dixon didn't care about anybody. He'd never had a girlfriend; just one-night stands. He hadn't even had sex with her (yet) and she was already tugging him in directions that he didn't want to go. Noel was a damnably frustrating woman; one night had her under his skin. Daryl sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't let her just up and leave without adequate supplies. It would be the same thing as murder.

"Listen. Stay here tonight and we'll go for a supply run in 30. Give us enough time t'git stuff together." Daryl knew that would only piss of Merle but he felt like he didn't have a choice. He ignored the nasty glare Merle sent his way, protesting. "I ain't lettin' her go out like that an' we're runnin' low on food. We gotta git stuff, so we may as well help her out. I woulda died, Merle. You never woulda found me. I owe her my life, Merle, don' matter if you don' care. But you should."

The older Dixon practically snarled at his brother. "30 fuckin' minutes. Or else."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Final cut is up! This one is longer than the others, and there is mature content involved, folks. I received a question as to why I pegged daryl as younger in this than he was in the show. It was because I believed that at a younger age, he would be more likely to see Merle as a figure he loves, and therefor more conflicted with happens in later chapters. As always, read, review, and hang tight. Probably won't be able to write much this weekend so look for a new chapter around Tuesday/Wed. **

Noel unstrapped her pack and shouldered it, turning to look at Daryl for direction and guidance. This wasn't her home and she was a slightly unwelcome visitor. Merle was looking more pissed than ever and was glaring at Daryl. He was slowly losing control of everything. This was his house, his land. He was the alpha male and this obnoxious little girl should be looking to him with those eyes. Asking him what to do. Instead, here he was being ignored as though he didn't even exist.

It was starting an itch in his brain. He was losing control of Daryl; he could feel it already. This mysterious woman was eroding the foundation of the basis of his and his brother's relationship. The power dynamic was just a little less stable. Even 48 hours ago Daryl would have asked him for permission rather than just offer up their cabin. He spit again and shouldered the shot gun, clomping away without saying a word.

Daryl led the way inside the cabin, ducking his head and lowering his voice. "I know it ain't much, but it's home." It was certainly different than what Noel had grown up in. Her parents' house, in Connecticut, had been a sprawling thing on a five acre lot. This little two room cabin was obviously more loved than her house had ever been. The spaces between the logs had been stuffed with moss and mud; probably the only things available. It made one thing abundantly clear; the Dixon men needed no other person. They could quite clearly take care of themselves.

There was a mattress by the side of the room with a small pile of clothes folded beside it and a water bottle. There was a table with two log stumps for chairs and a fireplace on the far side. That was as far as the embellishment went. Noel wandered along, fingers tracing over the logs as she went to the back to go look in the other room. She started forward and dropped her pack in surprise as Daryl intercepted her rather quickly and forcefully. "You cain't go in there. That's Merle's room. He'll kill ya." Somehow, one of Dary's hands had found it's way to her waist and pushed her back against the wood as he used his hips to pin her to the wall of the cabin.

Noel's breath caught in her chest as she looked up at him and into those impossibly blue eyes. Without thinking her arms threaded themselves about his neck and it was then she realized that she Daryl hadn't technically kissed. Apparently the same thought had found it's way into Daryl's mind as he caught her head in one hand and a slight twinkle appeared in his eyes. He leaned forward, smelling very much like a man. At this distance she could see the stubble on his face, the dirt in the creases about his neck. Daryl was, in essence, a woodsman. It radiated out of everything he did, every move he made. She tried to move forward and up, struggling to finally kiss him. Instead, Daryl went for her jaw, his lips finding the pulse point on her throat.

He realized then what he did to her. Her pulse was practically singing against his lips, trilling a staccato against the pressure he placing there. Her breath was shallow and her eyes clouded with what he could only pin as desire. Daryl finally leaned in with a delicious smirk on his face, his lips millimeters from hers. The air between them was practically crackling, positively electric. Noel was gazing up at him in anticipation, waiting for him to finally close the distance.

Nobody had had this effect on her in a long time. She'd done her share of boyfriends but she hadn't felt that instant spark that she'd found with Daryl. There was something about the Georgian man and his southern drawl that was wholly exotic and different from anything she'd ever experienced. Daryl made her stop and think. There was a complexity to him that was undefined. Every time she learned something about him it led to ten new discoveries, a whole cascading wealth of information that lay yet to be discovered. Noel was brought back to reality as one of his hands found its way to the back of her head, holding her in place.

When Daryl moved in and finally kissed her he was wholly unready for the surge of feeling it brought forward. It was as though somebody shot a bolt of electricity right into his chest. It was powerful, almost heady, and she was soft. So soft. She tasted like he imaged flowers would and he couldn't get enough of her. He kept her against the wall, demanding more from her and finding she was willing to give, to let him lead and explore her at his leisure. The feel of her under his body had him primed to explode, his hand finding it's way under her shirt.

The feel of his fingers on her skin caused Noel to shiver violently as she ran hands up his arms and over his shoulders as their tongues met, each of them trying to simply connect in a world gone crazy. There was a sound in the background they both ignored; a sound that they should have acknowledged.

There was a sudden contact with Daryl's head as Merle viciously grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him back away from Noel, tossing him almost carelessly to the ground as though this were routine. Merle stood over him, seething, and reached back as though to kick him. Daryl was his. First and foremost, Daryl was his. "I said 30 minutes, little brother, and then I come in and find you wasting time? With that fuckin' _**Yankee**_?" He spat the word like it was the worst thing in the world to be. "We're on a schedule because those fuckin' things out there-"

Noel saw clearly the power dynamic. Merle quite obviously was the controller; the one who made the plans and was in charge. She saw the heavy boots, similar to the ones to Daryl himself was wearing with the steel toes. She saw Merle in slow motion as he shifted his weight back, then his leg. She didn't realize she was moving until she found the wood of her unstrung bow in her hand. She had to do something; a kick with those boots could shatter bone. There wasn't room to maneuver. She did the only thing she could.

Merle was unprepared for was the crack on the back of his head as Noel took her longbow and swung. It wasn't hard (not even enough to make him stumble; she simply hadn't had room to swing much. It had been purely for distraction purposes). Merle, however, was faster than he looked. Faster than Noel had bargined for. Where Daryl was of medium height and stocky, Merle was tall and broad, all shoulders and chest. He'd been a Marine before he went to jail and he hadn't fully lost the physical implications of such a job. He had her pinned by a hand at her throat against the wall in a moments notice; towering over her, fingers tightening until she was barely getting oxygen. This was simply a size issue. No matter how she struggled against him, she couldn't get free and it was obvious he was enjoying watching her fight. He loved it when Daryl fought and he loved the fact that Daryl was so afraid of him, so under his control, that he wouldn't even attempt to get in the way. "You have no right to fuckin' touch me, you little bitch."

Daryl was frozen. Everything was screaming at him to get between them, to be a man, to protect Noel against the terror he knew Merle could bring. He wanted to get up, to intervene. He had to do something. He tried to speak but he was completely paralyzed by fear; fear for Noel, fear of Merle. He knew what Merle would do if he intervened. He would hurt her; hurt her to spite his younger brother. Because he had dared to risk caring about something other than Merle. Daryl's limbs wouldn't move and he found himself wishing for his crossbow because a hair trigger might be all he needed to do. He simply couldn't _do_ anything. It was too many years of conditioning to try and undo. Daryl had learned the lesson the hard way, the long way. When Merle puts you down, you stay down. You stay down or he beats you until you have no choice in whether you want to stay down or not. Like a God damn dog. That's all he was to Merle, was a possession. Something he owned, just like his bike except that Merle loved his bike in a whole different way than he loved Daryl.

Merle brought his face within inches of Noel's, snarling at her. "This is my fuckin' house. My fuckin' brother. You hit me agin, I'll kill you." Daryl was watching helplessly from the floor as his brother's hand was wrapped around Noel's throat, his other going to hold her hip in a bruising grip. His voice dropped even lower, causing the hair to stand up on the back of her neck as it went out of Daryl's hearing. She was gasping for breath, her hands trying to pry his off her body."He prob'ly wants you t'enjoy it. Me? It's all 'bout me. I like it when you struggle." Merle paused for effect, his hand slipping just a shade tighter as he brought his face closer to hers and bit her savagely right over where Daryl had already marked her skin. His voice was oozing enough power to strike fear into the center of her heart. She was helpless against him. "I c'n take you whether you want it'r not, sugar. Remember I c'n take it any time I want and he won't lift a finger to help ya." The color was starting to fade around her vision when Merle dropped her unceremoniously to the floor, leaving her choking and gasping for breath as he calmly strode back towards the door. "Ten minutes."

Noel was shaking; with fury rather than fear. She'd been fighting against men like Merle her whole life. Fighting for her place in her school program, for her job. Now, it seemed, with the world gone crazy she would be fighting for her life against more than the undead. Women were back to the bottom of the barrel. Rising in a male-dominated world took courage and heart and she was short of neither. Daryl was astounded at how viciously she was glaring at Merle's back, even as he got to his knees and went over to her, concern and sympathy on his face along with something else. Fear. Shaking fingers touched her face. "You cain't do that with Merle." His voice was a shaky whisper. "Please. I'd die'f he did t'you what he does t'me. Don't make him angry...please..." Her alabaster skin was already bruising in the shape of a hand; and teeth.

It was then she made her decision, gritting her teeth as she struggled to keep her breathing normal. She couldn't leave Daryl here to be at the mercy of that monster. Her voice was pure venom. "When I leave, you're coming with me."

Merle stood outside surveying the engine of the girl's car while smoking another cigarette. He would find a way to break her; and by breaking her, he would be breaking Daryl. He could already see their connection. A blind man could see it. These days, he figured, you took it where you could get it. He would find a way to bring Daryl back, and bring him back so hard he wouldn't even think twice about leaving Merle again. For anything; or anybody. All he needed was time. It was then he started yanking wires.

–

By the time the two had gotten outside Noel's car looked just the same as it had been and Merle was sitting on his bike, watching them. When the girl went to her car he shook his head, voice gruff. "We're takin' th'truck." The truck would put them in close proximity and put the girl in the middle. Daryl would be driving and he would refuse to have her trapped between the door and Merle. From what he could see, the girl was armed. She had the bow she'd managed to hit him with and quiver of arrows, some sort of sword attached to her hip. Merle figured that meant there was more he couldn't see.

Daryl shot his brother a briefly tormented look, unnoticed by the slim woman as she unbuckled her belt and pulled her sword off. Merle got up and hauled himself up into the truck first, deliberately taking up more room than was nessesary, forcing Noel's leg to press against him in order for Daryl to even fit in the truck.

"Careful, darlin'." Merle chuckled darkly, slinging an arm around her shoulders while she sat stiffly, one hand gripping the sheath of the rapier and the other resting tensely on her knee, inches away from the dagger. Being in this close proximity to Merle made her anxious; every nerve was screaming at her to run. Once Daryl got himself situated he started the truck, heading down the hill. The mile long drive to the road seemed to take forever. Every jostle had a punishment for Noel; a painful pinch or a sultry touch from Merle to remind her of who was in power.

Once they made to the actual pavement Daryl shifted over so that he was pressing against the door while driving with his left hand so that his right was draped over across the back of the seating, his hand brushing Merle's, allowing Noel to scoot over so she was closer to him rather than to Merle. They passed through the one-street town where the Dixon men usually restocked the cabin and kept driving and driving. Noel was marveling over how much space there was between towns and cities in this section of the country. Where she had grown up you had two major cities within an hour's drive, not to mention minor cities within twenty minutes. This was desolation. Just trees and abandoned cars and the occasional walker sitting by the road or trapped in a car. Daryl slowed as they saw a cluster of walkers surrounding a figure in a tree.

Correction. Hanging from a tree. The man had evidently committed suicide and turned, allowing himself to essentially become a zombie buffet. Noel blanched, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on the hilt of the rapier. Merle shook his head, his voice tinged with something that wasn't hate or fear. It sounded like pity. "Don't get any easier no matter how many times you see it, even'f you hated th'world at the start." She cast him a look, startled that he sounded almost human for a minute. Daryls' face was unreadable, even as Merle quietly stroked his hand for reassurance. "Jus' keep drivin', little brother. There's nothin' we c'n do fer him now. Gotta watch for us and ours."

So Merle was human after all. It was a startling realization for Noel since her brief encounter with him had been so dark and dangerous, seeing only the side of him that Daryl feared. It seemed as though at this exact moment she was seeing the side of Merle that Daryl loved. The number of zombies increased as they got closer to the epicenter for "urban" sprawl that was rural Georgia. Daryl looked over at Merle, automatically deferring to his judgment. "Where we gon' go?" The older Dixon had pulled out a map sometime during the drive.

"Go find somewhere empty on the edge to park. We c'n walk. Too dangerous to drive in like this." Daryl did as he was told, finding a parking lot in a supermarket that was vacant and on the edge of the town. Noel had shifted so that she could pull on the bandanna, covering her hair. Merle made a dismissing noise as she put a baseball cap on over it. "Useless, that is."

Noel looked at him. "You don't get it." Merle stiffened. "No, it's just...you don't have hair." She sighed as he cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an explination. "I learned this getting out of my parents. They grab things. They grab hair and clothing. Anything hanging loose is fair game." Which would explain the tight jeans tucked into her boots and the leather jacket she had thrown in the back of the truck. "I had to cut it." Daryl's hand brushed across the back of her neck; obviously there was more to this story than she was letting on. "Just trust me. Are we going or not?"

The Dixon boys turned all business, spreading the map between them and plotting out everything, making sure that all three of them knew exactly how to get back to the truck in case they got separated and had to make a run for it. It was a relatively small city and easy to navigate. Then they got out of the truck. In a matter of minutes the crew was suited up. Merle with his shotgun and a baseball bat that had nails protruding from it, Daryl with his crossbow and his knife. Noel was the most armed out of the trio with her longbow, the rapier, the dagger, and the pistol tucked into the back of her jeans. She zipped up the soft leather jacket and strung her bow in an easy, well practiced motion. The quiver was slung across her back. Noel looked at them both as they picked two massive duffel bags out of the back of the truck. "Ready when you are."

They were walking quietly, watching every direction. Every movement in the deserted area drew their eyes, every sound seemed to echo off the buildings. There was wreckage everywhere. Windows were smashed, and (even scarier) there were apartment several stories up that had broken windows as well. The cars were at random angles, and some of them had been flipped; occupants still inside. There were puddles of tacky brown substance all over the sidewalk and pavement. Noel flinched. Their footsteps were too loud, echoing across the buildings. Merle pointed to one of the stores, a camping store, and went there first. The place had been looted, shelves knocked over and windows broken, dark with lack of power. The trio stood at the doorway. Daryl was looking out, Merle was looking in, and Noel was just...looking. Watching for something out of the ordinary, anything that didn't belong. Merle hefted the bat and crossed the threshold, assuming the other two would follow him. Noel knocked an arrow, following him inside. There was a terrifying moment where she was totally blind until her eyes adjusted. Blinking, she saw that same effect on Daryl.

He was looking at everything and nothing, continually scanning even as Merle was throwing things into the bag. Rations, water purification tablets, containers. Anything that could be used for something else. Duct tape, rope, and climbing gear went into the bag. Bungee cords and lanterns, firestarters. Daryl shouldered a tent when Merle motioned to it. Noel spotted something out of the corner of her eye, motion. She whirled, bow up and arrow flying as the shuffling walk started to turn into a run. It then turned into a dead stop, the body falling onto the floor with an arrow in the center of his forehead. Merle looked up in surprise, his voice low. "Nice shot, girly." Noel grimaced and tapped her wrist, the universal gesture of 'hurry up'. They rapidly moved section to section picking up everything from clothes to fishing kits and then back out into the daylight and onto the next store. What they weren't ready for was the shambling mass that was approaching from the east, the direction that the truck happened to be. Noel went for an arrow but Merle grabbed her wrist. "Girly, we gotta run. Too many of them not enough of us." Daryl nodded in agreement, crossbow up.

"We c'n make it. Go north, circle 'round the long way."

"We won't get everythin' we need."

Daryl's voice was getting snappish. "So we come back. They're getting' closer, Merle. We either run'r fight." Merle was the first to decide. "We go. Stick close." They slipped up the street towards the north end of the city in the shadows of the buildings, until there was distance between them and the geeks that were starting to catch onto their scent. Daryl was pissed. "No way 'round it. We gotta cross, and they'll see us."

Merle was scanning. "We could go up."

Noel shook her head in disagreement."We have no way of knowing if the buildings are safe. Or even have a roof access. Too easy to get trapped. Daryl's right. We have to run." Merle was looking at her with a suspicious expression, even as she was talking. "Look, I'm a runner. I'll hold them off and you go, I'll catch up with you." The footsteps were getting louder. Daryl looked at her then tossed Merle the keys to the truck.

"Right behind us." Merle took off and, judging by the sound of the footsteps, was spotted. Daryl was right on his tail, crossing the street and taking up a position on the corner and watching up the street.

For Noel, it was effortless as breathing. The long hours training under the archers from her Kingdom was paying off. It wasn't even something she had to think about; she didn't have to worry about angles and aiming. It was simple. See your prey, turn from your core. Rise. Let loose. Draw, pull, fly. Draw, pull, fly. The bodies started dropping, one by one, but the mass kept coming forward. Between the two of them, Daryl and Noel managed to take out enough of them to give themselves time to run. And run she did, practically soaring down the street, letting her legs stretch. She found her rhythm and settled into a steady pace next to the Daryl as they ran. It seemed as though they had been running forever. Daryl was starting to get concerned; he could hear the pack behind them and knew they didn't have enough of anything to save themselves. The only thing they could do was run. The late-day sun was throwing their shadows off the buildings as their feet echoed. Neither of them was prepared to be running and their gear was starting to slow them down.

And then he heard it, the rumble of his truck. He wasn't prepared for the rush of emotions as he realized that Merle hadn't left them behind. His heart soared higher than it ever had before and his blood was pounding in his ears out of sheer relief; Merle had been so angry that he'd brought back Noel he wasn't sure if this hadn't been an excuse to get rid of Daryl once and for all.

Merle still loved him. Still loved him enough to take care of him, to come back for him. He knew it was wrong. He knew that the things Merle had done to him would, in a normal world, cause Merle to go back to jail. He'd known it since he was a kid; since Merle had first crossed the side of the cabin to where his brother lay at night. It wasn't normal. It wasn't something that the other people he'd known would have had to deal with.

In a world other than his own, Merle would have gone to jail. It was hard for Daryl to come to terms with because he, quite simply, loved his brother. Merle was family. Even if he didn't agree with the man that Merle had become, Merle had raised him. Stuck around to do so for as long as he'd could. He'd made sure Daryl had something to eat, had gone to school and gotten an education.

And there, at the end of the street with the truck, was that ratty old bastard. He was reversing back to them as they were running towards him, aiming to come even next to them. The door flew open and the excess gear they were carrying went into the bed of the truck. Daryl practically threw Noel in the truck before climbing up himself, Merle taking off before he'd even had a chance to close the door all the way.

–

The entire drive had been quiet; all three of the truck's occupants set into silence by their near encounter. Merle put the truck in park at the cabin and restrung up the cans while Daryl picked up the bags and brought them inside, putting them on the table. Noel was digging in her car's center console and pulled out another pack of cigarettes, hopping up quietly on her hood to smoke one while the brothers went through and sorted out the various loot they'd manage to take and between them come up with another list.

"Gas. We need to go git some gas from cars, like we used ta." Merle had pulled out the map, laying it flat on the table after they had cleared the table off to the sides of the cabin. "Highway is here. Might be it."

Daryl shook his head, fingers running along the map, pausing in places where it might be an option. "Too risky, too many geeks still 'round. Nah, we're better off goin' t'houses an' looking for cars there. Safer. Here, here, an' here." Merle drummed his fingers on the table, puffing on a cigarette.

"I dunno, little brother. Seems mighty risky. What if there's people in them houses? Livin' ones? Livin' people are a whole other game, Daryl." Merle was looking at him intently and somehow Daryl knew this was a test. A pass or fail examination. Would he be holding tradition with the Dixon men as criminals and low-lives or would he try and be a better man and redeem the family name?

"We c'n deal with it when we git there." Safe middle ground for him to stand on. Merle raised a brow at him and seemed slightly disappointed in his reaction.

"Alright, little brother. We do it yer way. This time. If this don't work, we do it my way." And all that entailed.

–

Daryl opened the door to the outside and stood in the doorway, watching as Noel perched on her car, smoking a cigarette and watching the sun drop steadily lower over the trees. The sound of cicadas was thick in the brush, providing them with the soundtrack they needed to be at peace. It was almost easy to forget what lay out there, deep in the trees with hungry mouths and unseeing eyes. She didn't greet him and he didn't greet her. Daryl simply got up on the car next to her and pulled out his own crumpled soft-pack of Marlboroughs. A grin came over her face for the first time since they'd woken up that morning and left the hunting stand behind what felt like a hundred miles away. "Cowboy cigarette for the redneck. Nice." She proffered up a lighter. "Those things'll kill you, you know." Daryl rolled his eyes.

"As if there ain't enough things t'kill me now, eh?" He shook a cigarette out of the pack and shoved it back deep into his pocket. "Cancer ain't gonna be what gets me." They sat like that for a while, side by side, watching the sun drop until they couldn't safely stay outside anymore. Daryl held the door for her and followed her in, barring it from the inside. It was a frightening sound because it meant Noel was essentially locked in for the night. The Georgian woods were too dangerous to roam at night alone. There were creatures out there that were worse than the ones she was locked in with.

Merle was sitting by the fire, watching and rotating two rabbits roasting on a spit, causing the fire to hiss. Daryl went and sat on what turned out to be his mattress and Noel quietly followed him, leaning back against the walls with her knees up to her chest, arms tight around them. Silence reigned. Distantly one of the cans rattled, causing the boys to sit up. Daryl reached for the crossbow almost instinctively, but the clanking stopped. He sat back, fingers twitching. This in-between state was killing him. A silence like this with Merle was often comforting, a companionable quiet where neither of them needed to speak. But this level of quiet with Noel made him uncomfortable. All he wanted to do was talk to her, find out more about her. What her story was, exactly. Figure out what she liked and didn't like, what had made her tic before the rising. What made her...her.

One of her legs relaxed over time, her foot dangling off the edge of the mattress. One of Daryl's hands had found it's way to her thigh, just resting there comfortably. Finally the silence was broken. Merle took the rabbits off the spit and started to butcher them, putting it on two plates (one for himself, one for them to share), and took it to his room before tacking up a piece of canvas that obviously served as a door.

With Merle out of the room, Daryl felt more comfortable speaking even if he wasn't out of earshot. "Ain't much." He spoke almost as if it were an apology Noel flashed him a grin.

"I've been eating MRE's for four weeks, this is awesome." Things were quiet as they ate and quietly washed up with water out of a pail in the corner. No wonder the Dixon men didn't really bathe; it was impossible for them to do so. While she was utilizing the rag Daryl went and, on an impulse, lay down on his mattress, hands behind his head, so that by the time Noel came back over there was simply no room for her. Unless, of course, she lay down next to him. She threw him a sultry pout before settling down next to him, mirroring his posture. "I see what you did there. You're real clever, Daryl Dixon. You could have just asked."

"If I had ta ask, why ain't you actually lyin'_with_me?" He was grinning at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the fire play across the beams. He wasn't surprised when he felt her form to his side, he even put down his arm so she could use him as a pillow. "You fit pretty well, though, for bein' so tiny."

Noel smacked him on the chest, sitting up on her elbow in protest. "It's not my fault. Besides, it means I can get places you can't. You should be grateful I'm so little." She was taken by surprise as Daryl pounced, all at once pressing her into the mattress flat on her back. He was leaning on her, kept up only by his elbows, going to kiss under her jaw. Everything he did practically screamed that he was a predator. The way he was looking at her and the way he was responding to her sheer proximity. Staring down at the way she couldn't move was so exciting it was frightening. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was how Merle felt. Powerful. He was so aware of how easily he could hurt her, and how hard it would be for her to hurt him. He was empowered by her trust; by the fact she was willingly offering herself to him. Empowered that he didn't have to resort to force (not that he would have).

"You fit perfectly." Daryl caught her in a searing kiss and she didn't stop him, winding a hand through his hair as his he aggressively claimed her mouth. He broke it off and lips were exploring, finding her neck, his lips moving more gently over the flesh Merle had abused. Daryl was trying to erase the previous violence by gentle kisses and touches. Noel was alive under his touch, her hands moving to discover what lay under his shirt, moving lightly over muscles she had felt under back the previous night. Her hands tugged impatiently on his shirt; she didn't want this to be drawn out. She simply couldn't wait. And judging by how quickly he sat up to remove it, neither did he. She took a moment to admire him in the light of the dying fire, muscle with a touch of softness.

Daryl was back in an instant, pulling off her shirt and going to unhook her bra, discarding it carelessly. Seeing her there, almost naked, waiting for him, almost caused him to lose it. He pushed her back and attacked her breast, pulling her nipple into his mouth, making her gasp as he reached up to tweak her other one, rolling it between his thumb and finger. He bit down, gently at first to gauge her reaction. Noel rolled her back up under his attention, fingers finding their way to his shoulder, nails gripping in encouragement. He switched and she let out a little whimper. Daryl couldn't stand it anymore. He was painfully hard against his pants and his fingers flew to unbuttton her jeans, peeling them off of her before standing, removing his pants and boxers, going to lie back between her legs. He caught her in another kiss, his hand slipping into her panties. He chuckled as he found how wet she was, sliding in two fingers and eliciting a delicious moan. Daryl moved his fingers and she moaned again as his thumb moved in circles. Noel whimpered, her eyes closed as she moved her hips against his hand; needing more than he was providing her with. A moment's notice had her underwear off and him ready, kissing her neck again. She whined into his ear and arched her hips up into him and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He swiftly plunged into her, sliding right into the best feeling of the world and, judging the by the change in her voice she felt at least similar to him. Noel needed friction. She needed him to move and he wasn't, so she started moving against him instead.

Daryl bit her ear as he picked up the pace, losing himself into her as he rapidly thrust against her. God, it was so hot. He was on fire, he had to be. Fire and heaven all combined into one. He wouldn't outlast her, his frantic pace unstoppable. Noel's body was primed and, under his intent ravishing of her body and the sheer fullness he provided her, she felt it. Daryl picked up the pace, making little noises in the back of his throat as he came closer and closer. Crap.

He brought a hand down and started rubbing her clit, softly at first, and then harder, the rough patch of his thumb causing her to inadvertently cry out. She hadn't been expecting it, and in a few moments she was experiencing a convulsion. Her body was caught in a spasm, arching against him as she began to shake. Daryl tried desperately to silence her moans with his mouth, but he could only do so much as his orgasm ripped through his body, causing a low, guttural growl to come from his throat. Noel was breathing heavily, reaching for him. Daryl drug the blanket over the both of them and they fell into a soft sleep, with Noel safely tucked into Daryl's arms.

–

Behind the canvas Merle had just finished himself to the sounds of them with a whine trapped in his throat, imaging it was he was causing Daryl to make those noises. To cause them both to create those noises. He was unprepared for the jealousy that stole over him in the silence. It was a rage so fierce it was all he could do to not get up and break something. Daryl was **his** and Merle didn't like to share. He found a rag and managed to clean himself off without incident, tossing it away and turning to stare at the wall. Something had to be done to remind Daryl of who truly cared about him. To remind him of his debt and his duty. The situation would have to be monitored and, as sleep started to wash over him, he formed a plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long! I know I promised this like...three days ago, but it just waaaaasn't where I wanted it to be. I know you guys are totally gonna hate me but...I've been waiting for the natural break and this is it, but there IS good news. Chapter six will be up by Monday. Keep reviewing! Tell me what you want. What you like, what you don't like. What you'd like to see (aside from smut, which will come, but I feel like a story should be just that...a story). Keep reading, it's gonna get good. Much love, LadyArrin**

Noel woke the next morning to find Daryl gone, her clothes folding neatly by the bed with a note on the top, penned in his almost illegible scrawl. _Gone__hunting.__Back__later.__Hang__tight._ She sat up and reached for the pile, scooping herself into her bra before going to her pack and digging out fresh clothes. Fresh jeans were brought out and she was just pulling a shirt over her head when Daryl came back through the door, hanging the raccoon by the tail as he leaned against the frame.

"Nice view, that." Daryl lay his crossbow by the door and crossed the floor of the cabin, hands coming to rest on her hips. "I was thinkin' it was laundry day. An' I could use a dunk. Gonna come with?"  
>It looked like she was contemplating when, in reality, Daryl knew she was just playing with him. Of course she would come; the other alternative was to stay here and wait for Merle. "It ain't far. Bout a mile hike. Git yer stuff'n come with me." He watched as she went and restructured her pack, separating out the clothes that needed to be washed and those that were clean, putting a box of Tide powder detergent on the top. She picked up her cap and put it on, buckling the straps of her pack across her chest and waist before arranging her weapons. "Ready when you are."<br>Daryl picked up a canvas pack and slung it over his shoulder grabbing his crossbow as he passed. The walk was a quiet one; they didn't need to speak. They fell into an easy rhythm of step after step and the both of them listened to the surrounding woods for any inclination of undead activity. Birds were chirping, squirrels were running around. Every so often they would catch sight of a deer and even saw some bear tracks in the softened mud under a limestone crevice. It was certainly beautiful. There was a surrounding color of lush green above them, the floor of the forest ever changing between brown, grey, and green. Sometimes they'd see patches of flowers in the dappled sunlight. Evidence of wildlife was everywhere. There were intersecting game trails that essentially provided a highway to where you wanted to go; if you knew the area well enough.

It wasn't long before they left the woods, coming out into a dazzling sight. They had reached the slowly flowing river and Noel gasped. It was beautiful. It was broad and slow, the water swirling in eddies as the current took it past various rocks. There was a sheer rock face rising up on the far side, essentially protecting them from all but one direction. The water was clear and blue, fish swimming visibly in the darker patches further towards the middle of the river. The bright green of the trees was surrounding them and the rustle of the leaves in the wind made it what would have been a perfect, picturesque spot before the undead started to rise. There was a broad, flat rock that jutted out from the bank and that was where Daryl laid down his weapons and his pack, kicking off his boots and unbuckling his pants, tossing them onto the stone. His shirt followed behind them.

A sudden whoop was followed by a running leap off the rock as Daryl made a splash, coming back up with dripping hair and a fierce grin. "Nothin' like a cold river in th'morning." Noel was a little more delicate in her approach, placing her weapons carefully before she removed the pack. Off came the boots, the socks. Her shirt was next, causing a wolf whistle from Daryl, and she slid out of her jeans and placed them next to Daryl's pants. Clad only in a bra and undies she dipped a toe in the water first, clearly unhappy with the temperature of the water.

"It's fucking cold."

"Don't be a pussy. Jus' jump." Daryl waded over to his pack, picking up a bar of soap. "Ya know you want it." Indeed, Noel was staring at the soap in what could be only be described as a desire. He tossed it to her and she stood staring at it in wonder, completely lost in the first bar of soap she had seen in almost a month. So lost, in fact, she wasn't aware of Daryl coming up behind her and scooping her into his arms. She was struggling against him as he waded deeper and deeper, the water coming up to his hips when he dropped her rather unceremoniously into the river. Noel came up with a sputtering, shivering glare.  
>"You're an asshole." Daryl was grinning ear to ear, raising his arms to defend against the ineffectual, playful smacks she was sending his way.<br>"You weren't gonna get in on yer own! I jus' helped you a little bit." He deftly caught her in his arms and drew her close, her back against his chest. Arms went around and 'secured' her, his voice dropping into a low chuckle as he breathed against her ear. "'sides, I'm sure I could help ya with that soap. Ya know...get all those places you can't." He was amused the effect his words had had on her behaviour. She had stilled in his arms and lay her head back against his shoulder. Noel shook her head.  
>"Laundry first."<br>Daryl dropped his arms and nipped at her shoulder playfully. "Buzzkill." They made their way over to the side of the rock, laying out the clothes (hers and both the boys, judging by the looks of it) and Daryl brought a bottle of something. "Ain't gonna use the tide. I like this river. This is whatchamacallit...biosomething."  
>"Biodegradable." She corrected him promptly, as though she wasn't aware she was doing it. "Your home, not mine." It didn't matter to her too particularly much. The soap found its way into the clothes, which they then started to scrub with a handful of river pebbles each. "You've really lived here all your live, then?"<br>Daryl nodded. "Merle rigged up a rope swing down past the bend. Deeper there. Been runnin' up and down these damn hills since I could walk, really." He shrugged. "Ain't much else t'do up here, you've seen that. What 'bout you? What'd you do as a kid?"  
>Noel starting rinsing the shirt she was holding, looking up at him briefly and occasionally during the process. "I did the typical suburban kid thing, really. I danced, played soccer, I rode and competed horses...we took skiing trips a lot to Vermont. Traveled a lot, too. Hung out with my girlfriends, dated. Nothing too spectacular." He looked at her as he started to rinse his own item of clothing.<br>"Where you been, then?" It made him uncomfortable to realize that she was much more educated and cultured than he was. He'd barely made it out of the state of Georgia. No organized sports or sleepovers for him. She was so completely different from him it made his head spin.  
>"Oh, all over the place. A good chunk of Europe. Most of south and central America. Canada a couple of times. China, India. I was due to be headed to the middle east in a year."<br>All these places. Places Daryl had only seen on the beaten up map in the small school that serviced some of the local towns. "What's China like?" He'd really had no inclination to leave his beloved mountain but there was a part of him that realized that he would never be able to see them now that the world was crazy. And it almost made him sad. It wasn't as though he had been planning on going before but at least then it had been an option if he'd ever wanted to. Now he just didn't have the chance. There was no way to get there.  
>"Crowded. The cities are ridiculously crowded. Everywhere you look and go there are people. Lots of crazy driving. It was interesting because you saw them putting up skyscrapers using bamboo scaffolding. Like the ultimate combination of rural and urban." Noel's voice dropped a little. "Probably didn't do too well, all packed in like that..." They fell into silence; just listening to the birds and the river. It was Daryl who broke the silence.<br>"What were yer parents like? What was it like growin' up somewhere other'n here?" Daryl was genuinely curious as to what it would be like. As a child he'd often daydreamed he was elsewhere. Always the same location but with better parents, a better brother. The daydreams were always accompanied by guilt. Guilt because he had food on the table, somebody to look out for him. He'd had clothes to wear and shoes that mostly fit. He'd grown up with more than lot of folk around here, but he still had wanted more.  
>"It was difficult, actually. Suburban parents have this thing about their kids being perfect all the time, which is why so many of us get into drugs and alcohol. Too much pressure and nothing fun to do. It's all competitive sports and who can get the best grade and the cutest boyfriend." She rolled her eyes a little. "Even your friends are willing to stab you in the back if it means they can get a leg-up on you. Suburbia is tough. Anybody who tells you otherwise is lying. It's all about being skinny and being perfect. And kids are mean."<br>Daryl nodded moving onto the next item, something of Merle's, a little grimace on his face. "S'really that bad? Ya think it wouldn't be. Y'all got money an' big houses." He was unprepared for the way her shoulders dropped, the almost-defeated expression that crossed her face.  
>"Money isn't everything. Growing up, I would have traded every penny just to have my parents be around. My dad was always flying somewhere else and my mom just didn't care about anything except me being skinny and beautiful. And perfect. Grades had to be perfect. I had to be a starter on the field, front row for dance. First place in all of my events at everything or I wasn't good enough. I would have given up everything in a heartbeat to have it feel like my parents had actually given a damn as to what I wanted to do, wanted to be. Honestly, there was no difference between when they were alive and when they were dead." Her voice turned bitter. "Mom tried to eat me alive when she <em>was<em> alive so I wasn't exactly surprised when that's how it turned out to be. My dad could be alive. I doubt it, though. He was on a plane to Germany when the outbreak started."  
>She was hurting, Daryl could see that much. She was hurting and she was alone. Noel had grown up even more alone than himself. Alone and completely surrounded by people who were supposed to love her, support her through every triumph and hold her at every loss. He, at least, had had Merle. That had meant something to him, somebody to look up to and to love. Noel had found herself totally isolated through her entire youth. It was all he could do not to wrap her in his arms.<br>"You got me, now." It was all he could really say. Noel gave him a long, complicated look.  
>"I think I'm gonna move on in a couple of days. Merle doesn't exactly want me here. I just need to get some gas for my car and I'll be all set." She refused to meet his eyes, focusing on what she was doing, staring down at the shirt in her hands. Noel couldn't see the look of hurt that crossed Daryl's face. In reality, though, what had he been expecting? That she would just stay in an uncomfortable situation with a man who hated her and a man who liked her? His shoulders slumped. Nobody liked him enough to stick around. His voice was low and sad as he answered her.<br>"I'd like it if you stayed. Hell, maybe I'll go wit'cha." He was unprepared for Noel dropping the shirt on the rock and barreling into his chest, clinging to him. Daryl stumbled back against the rock, putting down Merle's shirt and wrapping her in his arms. Lo and behold she was crying into his chest; deep, body-wracking sobs. The only thing he could do was hold her. He stroked her hair softly and lay his cheek against her head, rubbing her back as he held her. "It's okay. It'll all be okay, I promise." They got lost in each other for God only knows how long. Noel cried into his chest and Daryl simply held her close, rocking her. The only sounds were the river, the native wildlife, and the sound of her tears.  
>Eventually she quieted and disengaged from his arms to step away and dunk herself under the water, the cold shock of it bringing her back to the present. She had needed that. Daryl was watching her knowingly. She had been under so much stress that she hadn't had time to process it. She was bound to explode sometime. They finished the clothes in silence (even the ones on their backs); she not saying a word and he not responding to it. A companionable silence even as they cleaned themselves. They lay out the clothes in a flat line to dry on the sun-baked rock. Dary went and moved to a grassy stretch not too much farther down the bank, laying back in his boxers, enjoying the sun. Noel followed him and folded to his side.<br>"Did you mean it? When you said you'd come with me?" Daryl glanced at her, unplussed by her question. "I could go fer seein' more than this mountain. Figger we're safer on the move anyway." Fingers ran through her damp hair causing a contended little sigh to come from her.  
>"I love having clean hair."<br>Daryl smiled down at her. "I like you havin' clean hair. Fun to play with." He was very aware of good she smelled. He thought that she had a terrific scent before but now that she was clean it was amplified. He was also very aware of her as a heat source, of the way her body was pressed against him. She was kissing his chest, hands running lightly over his torso. "Woman, you gon' be the death of me."  
>Hands pulled her hips around so she was straddling him and he propped himself up by his elbows, reaching up to receive her kiss. Daryl would never be able to get enough of her, hands running up her back to unclip her bra when he heard a cracking sound in the woods behind them. In an instant she was on the ground and Daryl was on his feet, reaching for his crossbow and his hand finding only air. Noel had gone for her weapons and found none.<br>Daryl put himself between the woods and her as she scrambled to throw on a pair of jeans and reaching into her boot and finding the dagger. There she was, in all her glory, standing next to Daryl in a bra and jeans with her knife, eyes searching and looking for the threat. And then there they were, a group of people emerging from the woods. One of them, a teenage boy, was holding their weapons. Daryl's face dropped into a snarl. It was tense and they were outnumbered, six to two. Seven if you included the boy. It was Daryl who spoke first.  
>"Gimme my fuckin' shit back." He spit on the ground. "Fuckin' cowards, sneakin' around and stealin' people's stuff."<br>One of the men stepped forward, obviously the leader. A red bandana was tied around his head, dark skin in a sharp contrast to the white of his shirt. "Nah, we was enjoyin' the view." Daryl flushed red as he realized that they were, in fact, all staring at Noel. She seemed to have realized it too given the way she was looking at her shirt. She made a motion towards it and suddenly there were six firearms pointed in their direction, an assortment of pistols and automatic rifles.  
>The leader spoke again. "Drop the damn knife. What is it with you backwoods people and your fuckin' knives?" Daryl spit at him again.<br>"Guns are the cowards way of killin' people. Knives make you look at a person before you kill 'im." He was glaring pure venom, looking ready to start taking them on with his bare hands. The man looked at Noel and spoke again.  
>"Look, you're a pretty girl. Drop the fuckin' knife and I won't have to shoot ya." Noel looked helplessly at Daryl who gave her the slightest nod and she dropped it, using her arms to cover herself as best she could. One of the men in the background spoke up.<p>

"Dwight...gimme five minutes with her. That's all I need."

Noel backed up frantically as Daryl bristled and positioned himself between them and her. There was a fury rising in Daryl that he hadn't known before. It was consuming him. The only thing he could think of was tearing these men apart limb by limb and then throwing them in the river for the catfish to feed on. Or using them as walker bait. Living walker bait. His hands were starting to shake and his vision was clouding red. His breath was coming in short bursts and it was all he could do not to charge. Then, Daryl felt a hand on his back. Noel had made it behind him and her touch brought him back to a level where he could think; and think clearly. His heart-rate slowed and the red clouding was fading from around his vision as his mind began to think more objectively; beating back the primal Neanderthal waiting to emerge. There was only so much they could do. They were out-gunned and out-manned. Even if they were to run they would simply be shot and left to die (if they were lucky). It was all about calculated risk.

Daryl was sizing up his opposition. He had seen Noel in an armed fight, but he wasn't sure if he could count on her fist-to-fist. Not nearly quick enough to disarm three men apiece. That was when he realized they were closing in on them, trying trap them in a circle.

That alone would leave three of them without guns, the bulky assault rifles were simply too big; and that was their opportunity. Daryl felt Noel's hand on his back curl slightly and somehow, _somehow_, he knew they were thinking the same thing.

Noel was making her own calculated guesses as fast as Daryl was. She could roll to her knife and be up before they realized she'd dropped, even out the fight. Gunshots would draw walkers straight to them; it had to be dealt with. This gang of thugs wouldn't get the best of her. She was smarter than they were, tougher, faster. The only advantage they had on her was sheer size; which could also be used to her advantage. She was much faster and presented a much smaller target.

The group of black men were closing in on them, trying to get behind them. This was it. Now or never. As they completed the circle she dropped, rolling and snatching up her knife in nothing less of a moment. Noel sprang to her feet and her first opponent dropped as quickly as he'd brought up the gun, his face in a look of surprise. She blanched as the man let out a cry. This wasn't the same as killing as walker. Walkers didn't bleed or feel pain. Walkers didn't truly die because they were already dead. This man was dying because of her, because of an action she had taken, and it was killing her. This living, breathing, still human man was going to die. And yet some part of her distinctly recognized this as a fight-or-flight scenario because she didn't stop. She knew if she stopped, it would be her who would die. Her hand twisted and she whirled to face her next opponent. That was when she saw it. Daryl was a second too slow.

Daryl launched himself as Noel's hand left his back, putting his shoulders down and bullying one of the men out of the circle. He controlled the fall and his knees jarred under the impact; painful but the man underneath him had taken most of the shock. He grabbed the pistol and felt something give way as he struck the man's temple with the butt of the gun. He was faced with the man, Dwight, and raised his gun. Dwight raised his. Daryl wasn't sure if he had shot; but there had been a shot. And a small body flew into arms that automatically wrapped around him and he looked up in horror as one of his hands came away red.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took me six months to do. I hit a block for a few weeks and then I suffered an injury that took me out of writing, work, and life. Thanks so much to those of you who asked after seeing that update on my page; I'm doing fine now. I got the tendon replacement and the bone shaving went well. I'm out of the cast and you can expect more frequent updates as my hand gets stronger and stronger. Serious kudos to my beta, Lith. Without her...this would not have been possible. It's not so much of the vixen and Daryl; there's a lot of background stuff on all of them. As always, R&R! Love, LadyArrin**

She was burning up, trapped against his arms as Daryl hauled ass back to the cabin. The situation had diffused as rapidly as it had exploded; the sound of the gunshot had turned the entire wood into silence. Silence that lingered in a disturbing, dark way. It seemed as though the thugs knew what this meant. They dropped everything but their own weapons and vanished silently into the bush. She was pale and she was bleeding from the back where the bullet had entered.

Merle. Merle was her only hope. He had been vague about what he had done in the Marines but Daryl had managed to figure out enough to know he had been some semblance of a medic. Infantry, yes, but he had experience dealing with this sort of thing. Noel was laid gently down onto the rock as he rapidly shoved everything into the pack. His heart was racing and he couldn't catch his breath. He could hear movement in the brush; they had to _move_. Things were coming, drawn by the sound of guns and the smell of blood. Fuck. Daryl was as close as he ever was to experiencing true panic. He somehow managed to collect weapons and arrange them on his person in such a way that he was able to pick her up. The sounds were turning into footsteps now. He had to move.

He slung Noel over his shoulder and kept his knife close to his hand as he vanished silently into the woods. He could hear the shuffling as he kept up a steady jog towards the cabin. It wasn't good to move her in her condition but he really didn't have much of a choice. It was run or be walker bait. Daryl Dixon was not fucking walker bait. Ever.

His breath was starting to catch in his lungs, starting to burn. It wasn't as though he was out of shape; the way his muscles were formed showed quite the contrary. The fact that he was packing an extra sixty pounds of gear and about a hundred and twenty five pounds of dead weight which was putting him into the situation where his breath was painful, legs straining against his boots. The trail which he was so fond of, which was one of his favorites, was usually an easy trek. Today's events had turned it into a dark, treacherous kill chute lined with trees and brush he couldn't see through. Possibly the worst place he could possibly be.

The woods were silent. Not a bird, not a deer. He saw a family of squirrels run up farther on the tree. That was when he heard them. That deep, disturbing moan that was only five hundred feet behind him. The shuffling of dead feet through the underbrush, snapping twigs and making a racket. It was a good racket; it meant he could keep tabs on where they were. Daryl had no hope of out-running them. He was over-burdened and thinking as quickly as he could. The only thing he could do was keep pace and hope to whatever Gods there were that he could keep ahead of them. Just enough.

–

_It was sunny, light. Storrs was a beautiful place; she had chosen a good school. The elitist thing wasn't for her. Noel had turned down places at both Ivy and top state schools simply because she hadn't felt that she had fit there, both as a person and as a student. She had been thrilled to go to her state school, University of Connecticut and wear the Husky logo proudly. She was finishing up her junior year when the reports had started coming in. Down in Miami a guy was chewing off the face of somebody on the highway. Somebody in Louisiana had eaten his roommate's heart and brain. Her friends mocked her but this was the type of thing she kept tabs on. And then there was radio silence, the news outlets denying the facts that were spreading through social media and blogging. Panic ensued. The first outbreak was in Santa Monica; it spread rapidly to consume the city of Los Angeles. Fox called it a hoax; CNN called it the plague and were silenced. Taken off the air. The entire company vanished overnight. Then came the New York Times, claiming that New Orleans was gone in a flurry of flesh-eating figures. They also vanished overnight, followed by the Boston Herald and the Boston Globe. The Wall Street Journal was gone a week later. _

_That was when she knew she had to go. Noel simply packed up her car and told her roommate that she was leaving. She was met with derision and laughter. She offered to bring her dearest friend with her. Told her she wasn't coming back once she left._

_Noel had left Storrs on her own, in her Jeep. Top on, doors locked, windows rolled. She left just in time. The virus had come down through a flight from Toronto to Bangor, hit Maine and destroyed Boston in a matter of days. From there...it simply exploded. It reached Storrs in a matter of hours, brought by a student. Noel headed home, sticking to the back roads. She stole gas when she needed it and killed food when she saw it. It took her three days to reach home instead of the usual two hours. She had attempted to get close to the highway but had been diverted by government blocks. Those who tried to get through the roadblocks were shot on sight. Hospitals were closed. Police had given up and the rule of law was brigands in just a matter of days. Everything collapsed so quickly there had never even been a hope. In the back of her mind, Noel knew. She had always known. Her parents were too close to New York City to survive this type of an outbreak. She was hoping they were smart enough. She spent the last night before going to her parent's home in the back seat of her car, crying._

–

Daryl was close. He could smell the smoke from the fire. That was when he started to scream for his brother. The only person he had ever been allowed to count on in any form. Merle had been roasting the raccoon his brother had brought back that morning, casually smoking by the fireplace. He heard a noise that didn't fit with the ambiance the woods usually provided, causing him to raise his head and go peer out of the arrow slit that had been created when they had boarded the windows all that time ago.

Something wasn't right; Merle felt it in what was left of his soul. His little brother was in trouble. Deep trouble. Trouble that damn girl had probably gotten him into. He picked up his rifle and stepped out in the sunlight. And that was when he heard the scream. The scream that stopped his heart. That made him, Merle Dixon, feel rage deeper than he had ever felt. He knew it was Daryl. Somehow, he knew. Somebody was hurting his baby brother; hurting him bad. The fire was consuming him from brain to heart. Only he was allowed to touch Daryl. He was the only one allowed to cause him pain. Daryl was his; his to fight and to love and to protect and to destroy. And now...now the only thing he could do was climb up onto the roof. From there he positioned himself and settled in with the rifle. Daryl was coming and he would need somebody watching his back.

Merle was scanning the woods the way he was taught; let your eyes wander. Don't focus. Absorb the way the world was moving. Watch the grasses, the trees, the wind. And there it was. Deep in the woods. His brother. Merle was unprepared for the feelings that were slowly creeping over him and around the barriers he had built. Barriers he thought were the end of his emotions. Apparently not. Fear. Relief. Jealousy. He shoved them away in annoyance. Emotions were useless in general, especially in a time of war; and war this was.

War on the undead. As Daryl cleared the trees Merle started to shoot.

–

_Everything seemed normal. Noel was watching the windows from the safety of her car, hidden at the end of the cul-de-sac her parents lived on. Binoculars proved useless, nobody was near the windows. She brushed her hair back from her face. It was getting long; hitting the middle of her back in a straight sheet. Fingers effortlessly twisted it into a braid to hang down her back as she got out of her car, bow at the ready. She was silent as she slipped out to the house. Too late did she realize the windows had been shattered, the door partially open. Her binoculars didn't let her see the blood on the walls that was now evident against the darkness that was inside. She pushed the door open and winced at the creak that ensued. Then she heard steps. Shuffling, dead steps._

_She broke out into a cold sweat as she realized how futile this had been. There was no way. She'd' been stupid and reckless. Noel was running before she even realized it. And then, out of nowhere, a rotting hand swiped her braid._

–

Daryl had never been so relieved to hear gun shots. He knew all he had to do was keep running, make it to the cabin. Merle was covering his back. He was slowing, though. The extra weight was taking a toll and he was starting to get caught in some mud from the rain the weekend before. He wasn't going to make it.

Merle could see the look on his brother's face. That look of horror and defeat as he realized he couldn't, wouldn't, be able to make it. That look had been haunting him for years, ever since he had gotten back from the Sandbox. The look his only buddy had worn as he had realized he was trapped by sniper fire. The look that clearly said "forget me, and save yourself." The look on his friend's face as he been shot. Merle Dixon's face set into a snarl as he shot, shot, shot, shot. The bolt action rifle was alive under his hands, sending the bullets precisely where he intended to send them. He wouldn't lose his brother. Not fucking Daryl. Over his God-damned, burned, destroyed body. Merle Dixon did not give up. Every single one of his bullets found the place he meant. Deep inside the skull of the grey-skinned, hungry walkers. They were chasing his baby brother down like he was prey, eyes white as the bone poking through. The teeth that were visible and practically rotting through. One by one they died for good; felled by the rifle. Felled by the hand of Merle, each one with a bullet clean in the center of the forehead.

He was plagued by images and sounds that were appearing in no particular order. The first time he saw Daryl as an infant. The first time he had held him. Teaching him to track in the woods, to get away from the arguments and the violence. He brought his baby brother into the woods for days at a time, teaching him everything he could. How to walk, how to tell old tracks from new. What tracks went with what animal. The boy had a gift. There was no other word for it. He remembered teaching Daryl how to hold a gun. He'd bought Daryl his first weapon; a .22 rifle when his brother was 7. He remembered the day their father went to prison. The day their mother died.

He remembered the day he had first pressed Daryl up against the wall of the cabin in a drunken haze. He remembered how sweet it tasted, the way his brother had been alive under his hands. Daryl had fought, at first, but it became apparently he could not win. The size and strength advantage that Merle had over his little brother was just too much. That smattering of violence and the eventual submission had him hooked from that day forward.

Merle had run a tight, often cruel ship. There was no shortage of violence in the Dixon house; often by his hand. But push come to shove, Daryl was his. Daryl was Family. And Family must be protected.

There was a line opening up behind his baby brother. Merle was creating a distance. "RUN, little brother! I only GOT SO MANY BULLETS!" His voice was rough from the stress. Daryl needed no other encouragement. Somehow he received a second wind, pulling through to the perimeter and bolting into the house. Merle slid down the roof, dropping the now-empty rifle and doing a five-point roll from the height to distribute the impact evenly throughout his body; avoiding the jarring sensation that was the precursor to broken ankles and shattered shins. He grabbed the gun and followed his brother, barring the door behind them.

–

_Oh God, no. Not this. Not like this. Noel was yanked onto her back and saw the face of her mother above her. It was terrible; decayed. The virus must have hit New York first, given the state of decomposition. There was no way anybody at her school had survived. Her hands were fighting, slicing with her dagger. It was ineffectual. Zombies didn't feel pain. It was all she could do to keep her mother from chowing down on her face. Dimly she realized somebody was screaming. Idiot. They needed quiet._

_Then she realized the one who was screaming was herself. A lucky hit brought the dagger through her mother's temple and she collapsed. Oddly enough Noel felt nothing. This woman hadn't loved her alive. She had spent her entire life looking for her mother's love and approval and in the end it had suited her well. Had she been a mother-worthy daughter she would have died. Things were dangerous now. Everything knew she was there and there were only so many places she could go. She needed to get back to her car and get back fast. She sprang to her feet and fled, glancing back behind her to see the youngest of her sisters following with a hungry, crazed look on her face. She was less rotted. Fresh. It was possible she had been hiding somewhere and Noel had gotten there only a few days late. Her neighbors were shambling out of their houses, drawn by the sound of her screams._

_She had reached her car with barely feet to spare between her and the horde, gunning her engine with tears streaming down her face._

–

The cabin was in chaos. Daryl had put Noel onto the table and the wound was oozing. Merle was shoving every piece of furniture they had against the door, hoping it would hold against what he knew would soon be an onslaught of walkers. Merle was furious, the type of anger that started deep in your chest and built and built. His voice was a snarl. "What th'FUCK happened?"

Daryl was quaking, their gear in a lump by the side of the door and his face white as the snows that could blanket the whole cabin during the long winter months. His voice was barely registering as a whisper. "I don' know."

"How c'n you NOT know?" Merle's hands were running across the girl's back. "What happened." It was an order; not an option. "Christ, little brother. What were ya thinkin'?"

It was bad. The bullet was deep and it felt like it had fragmented into at least two pieces, possibly more. They would be lucky if it didn't hit some type of an organ. It looked like the bullet had passed the kidney by a hair. This wasn't so different from the wounds he had seen. Those soldiers had often died. His brother's words were barely audible over the sounds of the walkers now surrounding the cabin, banging on the walls with their ghoulish moans.

"It was fer me, Merle. That fucking nigger shot me an' she jumped." The confession shocked his brother's hands still across his girlfriend's back (was she his girlfriend? Did it matter? Were they going to get out alive after this?)

Daryl was brought back to reality with pain. Merle had struck him, backhanded, across his face. Calloused hands rasped against his cheeks as his brother brought him into a painful, bruising kiss. Merle was shocked at the defeated look in his brother's eyes.

"Yer lucky, then. Otherwise I wouldn't bother."

Daryl was beyond confused. The rough love of his brother should have revolted him and yet he found himself sinking into the familiarity of it. His mind was wandering back over nights where they had shared the same side of the cabin. The nights when he had been allowed (forced?) into Merle's bed. The bruises and welts and deep scratches that came with such attentions. Merle was not a gentle man and it was coming through.

Daryl realized he had been hit again and focused in. Things were getting hazy and now was not the time to sort out boundaries.

"I need water, little brother. Boil it. Now. Boil the rags." Merle was moving and grabbing things out from behind the canvas that served as his door. A bottle of home-stilled moonshine and his sharpest, smallest knife. A needle and extra thick thread that he had used to sew the wings onto his brother's leather vest. "Time's the key here, brother. We gotta move quick." it was as if the walkers didn't exist. Daryl was finally able to see what had made his brother such an excellent soldier- his brother's ability to move efficiently and without fear. He was a man of steel. It was the longest fifteen minutes of his life, waiting for that water. Merle had laid the knife in the coals until it was red. Sterile.

Noel's back was doused in moonshine, the most effective antiseptic that they had available. The knife was still hot as he situated himself across the girl's legs. "Daryl. DARYL." The younger Dixon was brought back to space.

"Daryl, hold her arms. You gotta hold her still." Merle's voice was a thick, angry snarl.

Daryl was passed a stick covered by cloth, instructed to put it between her teeth. Daryl grasped her arms and cradled her head in his lap as his brother flipped the knife, doused it in the boiling water, and sliced.

The girl came to with a piercing scream and a wrench of her body, held still by the two much bigger men. Daryl looked at his brother with sorrow. "Ya gotta save her, Merle. You gotta." Merle's hand was suddenly in the incision, probing carefully but efficiently. Noel passed out limp against them with Daryl tenderly stroking her hair.

"Oh, I'll save her, little brother. On one condition-" Merle's eyes were closed, reaching for the fragments as gently as he could by touch alone, picking them out one by one and placing them on the table. "You're mine now, brother. You can fuck her if you want, but you are** mine.**"


	7. Chapter 7

_Noel had driven until she couldn't afford to go any further. She was barely at the border between states and had to look at the map. The problem was that she needed a map, and there was a map in __**that**__gas station. That dark, not quite empty gas station. She had seen movement and the place was set up with a make shift chain-link fence. She knew they knew she was there. That was how she knew they were, in fact, human. Real. Living. The zombies would have rushed her car the second her headlights came into view. There was gas in the tank but not much; not enough to get through the city. Not enough. Never enough. There were cars littering the road but they had all been empty, probably siphoned by the folks in the gas station. These days, though, people were not friendly. It was no longer the era of 'help your neighbor' and good, wholesome Christian thoughts. The world had become a depraved place where you went to bed every night wondering if you were going to wake up; hoping that if you didn't it would be quick. It was 'everybody fend for themselves'. A delicate hand slammed down furiously across her steering wheel. There was no choice. Noel needed to get out of New England and there were two ways to do that. Go through New York City or travel up to eight hundred miles out of her way to go north, then west, then south, then back east to skirt the city in its entirety. She needed gas and she needed that map. They were close enough to The City that maybe, just maybe, they had heard something about what was going on. Noel had been in total radio silence she had left her college; only the emergency broadcast station repeating the same ghoulish message over and over. 'Residents are urged to stay in their homes and not to come out at this time, to seek shelter wherever possible and avoid contact with the infected'. Like it was some kind of disease that could eventually be exterminated. Yeah, right. _****

_The horror of her mother's house wasn't behind her. She could feel the grime on her braid. It was contaminating her, sneaking into her brain and distracting her. A hand grabbed the end of it. Her hair had once been her pride and joy; the one thing about her she actually liked. It was too dangerous now; it only presented an opportunity for death. A deep sigh found its way from her lungs as she brought out her knife and a second hair tie, a tremor in her hands as she brought the tie to the base of the braid and picked up the knife in numb fingers. This was it. This was officially the end of an era. The end of life as she knew it. Even though her hair was thick her knife was strong and sharp enough to slice through with only three tries. Noel tossed the braid out of the window and glanced in the mirror with a cringe._****

_The face looking back was almost unrecognizable. It was ragged and harsh and there were deep purple circles were under her eyes. The skin was pulled tight across her features and her eyes were reflections of grief. The brunette glanced down the road to make sure it was clear before she opened the door; Noel's pistol was in the back of her jeans as she zipped up her leather coat. She spotted a shadow at the door. They knew she was coming; they were probably arming themselves. It was now or never._****

**–******

Daryl refused to leave Noel's side for anything; to eat or to drink, to do anything but sit and watch as she burned up with this fever. The wound had been closed with thread but it was streaky red and angry-looking, hot to the touch to boot. Infected. Merle had been shoving Ampicillin down her throat every four hours but it wasn't even making a dent.****

Things were getting complicated. Daryl's resolve to leave had only solidified after his brother's one 'condition'. It was a matter of getting Noel well and getting her strong again. Merle had taken the bike and gone down to the pharmacy, coming back mostly empty handed. He'd gotten enough antibiotics to keep his stock up and a few other things as well (mostly recreational). However...they were running low on food and food was necessary for survival. Bottom line? Daryl was better at hunting than Merle was. He was better at staying unseen and better at tracking. He had surpassed his teacher by the age of ten and had been trying to teach Merle ever since with no luck at all. It was all a matter of pride. Merle was a prideful man and being taught something by a person who was below him was absolutely grating.****

It didn't take him by surprise when Merle pulled up the log stump and leaned forward with elbows on his knees, blue eyes staring into his younger brother's. "Ya gotta go out, little brother. We need food. And you're better at this than me."****

In hindsight that should have been Daryl's first clue something was amiss. The glowing quality of his brother's eyes indicated something akin to eagerness but Merle was right. They needed food. Noel needed the food; the nutrients. He needed to go gather and hunt. Find things to bolster her immune system so she could throw off this fever and come back to the real world. The Georgian's face showed exactly what he thought this plan was but there wasn't much of a choice. Things had always been do or die for the Dixon brothers; nobody looked after them except each other. It was how it had always been and likely how it would always be. ****

**"**Fine." He practically snapped at his brother but Merle just let it go, even though it should have been the second indication that something was wrong. Rugged, rough, calloused hands did a weapons check. Boot knife. Hunting knife strapped to his thigh. Fingers counting the number of bolts in his quiver. Daryl jumped as a huge pair of hands slid around his hips, pulling him back against a firm body as he fought the itch to draw his knife and stab his brother through the kidney (or whatever he could reach). Teeth found his neck in a savage bite as nails dug into right above the waistline of his pants. A shudder of horror and disgust wracked through Daryl's body; a movement Merle mistook for something other than the truth.****

**"**Come back, little brother."****

**–******

_Noel ran swiftly across the road and realized the fences were set up to corral people in. Or perhaps not people at all. A cold fear trilled along her neck as she realized she had entered a kill chute. Not only a kill chute, one manned by snipers on the roof of the Shell and pistols pointed at her through the fence. Fuck. She was at the total mercy of the people inside the gas station; no matter what type of people they were._****

_She did the only thing she could. Delicate hands unbuckled her sword and lay it down in front of her. Next came her dagger. Last, but not least, her pistol went into the pile. Hands came and laced behind her head as she turned her back to the door and waited. She could see eyes between the boards that were the reinforcement of the chain-link. "I need help and gas. Food if you can spare it. A map. I'm trying to go south. I don't want to stay here." The door behind her creaked open and she repressed the urge to shake. Show no fear. Be bold. Or, as Nike used to say before the world went to shit, 'just do it'. _****

_A cold, cold barrel touched the back of her neck. The voice that followed was deceptively soft with a twang. "Ain't much we can do for ya. We'll let you in. We're taking your weapons." The person shifted, the barrel moving across her neck. Noel was shocked to to learn the gun was in the hands of a child; a girl who looked to be about eleven._****

**"**_Who's in charge?" Puzzlement was projecting outward like an aura as Noel gazed on the child. _****

**"**_We all are. It's a democracy. Let's go." There was a whistle from the roof and the girl prodded her captive with the rifle. "Now. That's the bad whistle. Dead people are coming. Probably brought here by your car." Noel did as she was told, stepping back to find her weapons gone and the door open._****

**–******

Daryl realized how easy it was to lose himself in his work. His tasks weren't so much linear in approach; he headed first to where he knew the game would be. The river. He was more cautious now he knew he wasn't the only human who was alive in these damn woods. It was a disturbing feeling; the one place he had felt safe in his entire life was now at the mercy of others. He should have expected as much; as the cities became worse and worse people would move outwards to what they deemed 'safer' places.****

Powerful arms helped him scale a persimmon tree to find the fruits that were ripe, the orange ping-pong ball-esque things provided a ton of vitamin c, which Noel would need. He found himself frequenting the haunts he had ignored last year to allow the plants and trees to harvest properly; the thicket of elder plants was proving to be a decent source of berries. He knew the unspoken rules that would allow plants to flourish. If you wanted to live instead of just survive, you never took more than a quarter of what you could.****

He loved the woods and needed them to thrive; it was what he survived on. Every so often he would stop and gather the pads of a prickly pear, wrapping them in a cloth and putting them in the bag (so long as you peeled off the outside it was tasty enough). Farther down the game trail he came upon a patch of orgeon grapes off in the deep, stepping efficiently to gather and place those into the bag as well. There was the sound of claws skittering across a tree and he whirled and shot in one instinctive motion, felling the squirrel with a soft squeak as it landed at his feet. The tail was tucked into his belt, and the bolt was retrieved.****

By the time he reached the river he had six or seven squirrels across his belt and the pack he had was filled with native plants. Now it was simply time to track. There was no concept of time when he was in the woods. He was aware of everything and nothing at the same time; his senses and body blurring with his surroundings. He moved the way the grasses did as he was on his belly in a small meadow, taking his time on coming up on a small herd of deer. This deep in the woods it was common to see upwards of six or seven in a pack, which meant he could have his pick. It was just about how much he could carry home by himself. Usually his truck was parked down the end of the game trail but today he was desperate enough to stick close to home. Usually he varied his hunting grounds so as to not to decimeter the local populations. ****

For just a moment Daryl was actually happy. He could feel his shirt riding up over his torso, the smell of earth and greens in his nose. The way he was sliding over sticks and rocks, feeling them scratching up his belly. It wasn't important so he didn't care. He could hear cloven hooves padding across grass and leaves. There. On the corner of the herd was a young buck with an ankle injury. Daryl was studying the animal, assessing to see if it had been bitten or scratched. To see if it was sick (and unsafe to eat) or just hurt. Closer inspection found the buck with just an injury. ****

Fingers sent the bolt flying after a heartbeat of aim, the bolt sinking deep into the beast's chest. Iwas a perfect shot. The rest of the herd was off running even as the buck stumbled and fell, blood trickling from the nostrils. ****

Their wasn't enough time to do a full field dressing. Something was wrong. Something was deeply and terribly wrong but it wasn't here. The woods were singing with life, automatically eliminating the threat of walkers. It was a considerable hike back with an extra hundred pounds of meat but it was worth it because of how long it would feed them. They would eat what they could fresh and smoke the rest. This type of living was easy for the Dixon brothers. ****

-****

_Inside the gas station it was like a refugee camp. Air mattresses (in some places just coats and blankets) littered the floors in neat rows. What noel saw staring back at her from the barrel of the rifle was nothing more than a group of kids. Scared kids who were all holding guns or knives to her person, except a small group of little ones huddled in a corner. "What on earth...?"_****

_They all looked well fed and taken care of, better fed than she was. She knew instantly she would be on her own. No matter how bad the world got she would not take food or weapons from a group of kids. The pixie-like brunette would rather die. The girl on the other end of the pistol was giving out orders. "Beth, Amy, could you guys kill the lights? Turn on the lantern in the corner. If they're gonna show up we gotta be like we aren't here. Just like always." The smaller of the children were taken away from the windows and huddled around the lamp with a book to read even though the noises and the footsetps were shuffling closer. The older kids were busy stringing blankets and throwing bars across the doors. The girl who had met her gave her weapons back without hesitation. These days you had to trust that in the face of adversity the better sides of people would show._

****_The honey-haired child gave her a look that was out of place on her still-chubby cheeks. A look of _**'**_**don't make me regret this.'**__The doors started shaking on their hinges as the things outside tested for a way in. Any way in. It seemed they were banging on the weak points, the gaps in the reinforcement like they knew it was there. _**  
><strong>_One of the younger children who couldn't have been more than five started to cry and then came the worst sound they could possibly have dreamed of hearing. Shattering glass from the back room. Noel was running before she could even register, heading to the sound to place herself between the monster breaking in and the kids that had given her shelter in a time when the last person you wanted to trust was a stranger at your door. Fingers curled over the boards as a white and rotting eyeball pressed into the open space, unaware of and not even notice the shards of glass that were piercing what had once been sensitive flesh. Fingers reached through as blood started oozing down the board as teeth were gnashing and clacking together as though it could taste them already. There was a horrifying crack as one of the boards farther down fell. The gas station must have been surrounded because there was more than one pair of hands pushing through the boards. Rotting hands were reaching for her, for the ones who had helped her. A foot of steel found its way into the walker's skull as she turned to face the onslaught as others found the space in the boards and pressed as one horrifying mountain of undead flesh and teeth. There were so many. Noel and the girl looked at each other for a long moment. There was no way out of this, not without somebody getting hurt. _

******"**_You have to let me out the front. Give me a torch, a radio, something. Anything. I need my gun back and I need it now."_****

_The girl shook her head. "Why would you do this?" Noel shrugged even as her dagger found another walker skull to imbed itself into. _

******"**_Because it's the right thing to do. You need to leave here. You're too close to New York. You gotta get away from here." She was busy tucking her gun back into the waistline of her jeans, between belt and fabric, and hands were rapidly working on wrapping rags in layer upon layer around a piece of wood. "I'll distract them long enough to get to my car and try to lead them off, go back the way I came. You got kids to take care of." The girl nodded._

******"**_You can get there from the roof. It ain't so high a jump on the other side, too much for us but you could do it. We'll keep 'em occupied." The girl was tossed a lighter by a fellow and she pressed it into Noel's palm. "There's a farm maybe ten miles to the west of here. It should have cleared out enough to let you in. There's enough gas in the barn to get you to Philly but I'd stay away from it. Stay off 95. I'd tell you to stay away from the bridges but there isn't any way across." The girl grabbed a can of gasoline and soaked the rags, passing off the torch to the woman who had appeared from nowhere._

****_Noel was dumbstruck, staring at the girl in awe. "How do you know about the farm?" _

****_The girl grimaced. "It was mine. My family's, I mean. My kid brother and I made it all the way out here. We can't go no further, lady. We'll die here. We can't move those kids, they're too young. We're gonna stick out as long as we can here and go down with a fight." There wasn't time to argue. If she wanted to give these a chance to survive she had to get these walkers out of here now._**  
><strong>_The girl led her to the stairway and shook her hand. It was then Noel realized she didn't know her name. "My name is Noel."_

******"**_Caroline. It was good to meet you, Noel. Now get the fuck out of here."_

****_The woman flew up the stairs to the sound of gunshots across the other side, the ground was clear from the slope of the roof, a five foot drop. It was now or never. Noel slid to the edge of the roof and dropped down, setting the torch alight and fishing both her key and her pistol from her jeans._**  
><strong>_She let off two of her precious rounds as she circled around the pack, waving the torch and screaming at the top of her lungs. They were burning as she made it to her car and opened the door, the torch making circles of light as she pressed the horn in one long, loud burst. _

****_The pack stared at her with unseeing eyes, drawn to the commotion of the flame as everything in the station went quiet and dark. Noel laid on the horn again before tossing the torch into the middle of the pavement where it wouldn't be a fire hazard. Headlights blazed on as the Jeep roared to life and sped off down the road, the honking and the radio drawing the pack away from the Shell and off into the night._

****Daryl was making the best time he could between the deer and his crossbow, stopping at the river long enough to wash the blood off his skin and rinse out the body cavity so he wouldn't properly gored up when he got home, simply the last remenants of the carcass. He didn't want to leave a trail for walkers to follow. Booted feet were tracing the game trails he knew by heart, navigating without thought. His ears were aware of everything. There was a snake off to his right, leaving him alone in the underbrush. The birds were creating a constant soundtrack by trilling as he walked, squirrels were chattering away as they hopped from one green bough to another. There was the scurry of chipmunks and the smell of fresh-turned earth from a brand new rabbit warren; he reminded himself to set a patch of snares here later. It was closer to home and rabbits were always good eating. **  
><strong>What felt weird was that the closer the woodsman got to home, the worse started to feel. His palms were sweating, his heartbeat was starting to race and thunder in his ears. There was a gnawing deep in his gut that was worse than anything he'd ever felt before; even when his definition of fear was Merle creeping across the cabin at night or being taken down from behind in the woods by a walker. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. He broke into a tired lope as he took the most direct route he could, the weight of his knife heavy against his leg and the crossbow slung across his chest feeling like ice and burning against his skin.

****At last, finally. The cabin was in sight. The last reserves of his energy came flooding to the surface with the surge of adrenaline as he realized what Merle's plan had been all along. To get him out of the cabin. He dropped the deer in the bed of his truck and tried the door. It was locked. His hands clenched into fists as he took a step, two steps, back and kicked the door above the knob. They'd never had anything more than a basic lock and a bar on the door. If Merle had wanted Daryl out of the house he would have sent him farther away; had him take the truck. Merle wanted to be interrupted and the younger of the brothers was certain the bar would not in place. **  
><strong>He was right. The door came flying open and he saw his brother looming over the small figure and buckling his belt. Daryl's heart froze and dismay was etched over his face as he realized Noel was not where he had left her, that her boots were off. That her jeans were unbuttoned and her shirt was riding up, exposing the ragged scar. That fingerprint bruises were starting to form across her abdomen.

******"**Welcome home, little brother." The smug look on his brother's face was all the information he needed and his heart broke.


End file.
